Tomorrow is my last chemo, assuming my blood counts are high enough, and I'm going a little crazy. This is not an unfamiliar phenomenon in our home. I went through it when Hadley ended chemo. Every. Single. Time. It's something I've tried to explain to folks who haven't traveled this road, and I'm sure I'll sound just as certifiable now as I have in the past. That's ok. I'm one with my insanity.
When you (or your child) are diagnosed with cancer the normal response is to follow the stages of trauma/grief. After reaching acceptance you typically are ready to fight. You fight like there's no tomorrow. Damn the odds. The doctors can't predict your destiny. You (or your child) ARE going to beat this. So, you fight. Chemo, surgery, radiation...whatever it takes, you do it. This is where I've been. I've been fighting. I've been putting on my brave face and waging war. Tomorrow is the last battle in that war. After tomorrow it is done. At least part of it. Once the war is over you wait to see how you've done. Who wins. Will the doctors be right or wrong? If you haven't won will you have the chance to fight again? Are you even strong enough to fight again? How does the chapter end? When the battle is done there's nothing left to do but wait it out. Your false sense of control and security is gone. All the dark and twisty parts of your brain come out into the open. Fear tries to creep in. Things get gnarly again. Craziness ensues...
So, while I'm thrilled at the prospect of ending chemo and taking back my life...I'm all kinds of crazy right now. Like so many things...this is a double edged sword.
Consider this my caution sign. You've been warned.